“H’m!” he said, regarding the wreckage with a calmer visage. He brought me past this house, and I thought I would call and leave your brother’s letter. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. ’ ‘Only because you did not tell me entirely the story? That is silly. He grew even harder. ” “Well, I have two,” said Mr. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. Before you go I'll give you a list of books to read.
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